An Update

I haven't been on here in a while, so I figured I'd at least pop in and give an update. The update will actually tell why I haven't been blogging here. It's short, sweet, and to the point. The following is an excerpt from a "catching up" e-mail that I sent to a friend recently.

I'm also at the point where I don't know that this life thing is all it's cracked up to be. I've been fairly apathetic about being alive these days. I have no real reason to live and absolutely nothing to look forward to. Then there's the whole being 6'4" and trans thing to kind of take the wind out of any sails that I have. I've been pushing and pushing to make things happen with it, and I find myself going in circles... if not outright going backward. I am just completely mentally exhausted and I can't find A reason to push myself anymore... especially because I'm realizing more and more that what I'm pushing myself for is a total and complete fantasy that can never be achieved. It's the only thing that even matters to me... and it's a completely hopeless endeavor. It's the only thing on my mind... and I am SO miraculously tired of thinking about it. It governs everything in my life, it's never going to go away, and in fact, it only gets harder and harder to deal with. This is what I have to look forward to. It'd be different if I hadn't tried a million different things to make it better. But I've been fighting and fighting for years now, and losing... time after time... and things are only getting worse. It is DESTROYING me. Quite literally. And I don't know what else (if anything) I can do about it. I don't even know what's left to try, and more to the point, why I should even bother. It's never going to go away. Never. And, as I said, I am so, SO tired of dealing with it. I can't even explain the depth of the pain these days. I'm not even sure how I deal with it. I guess it's just a one day at a time type thing. I don't really know.

These same sentiments have been expressed to a couple different people, none of whom really know what to tell me at this point. And the hope wanes more and more.

Be well.

Part II: The Bad

Where we last left off, the protagonist of this-here story (i.e. yours truly) had just gotten a written referral to see an endocrinologist to hopefully get prescribed hormones. I called the office, made the appointment, and waited something like two looooonnnnng months in a feverish anticipation that was riddled with both fear and apprehension. Talk about a fun two months.

Now when I called the doctor's office, I told them that I was coming in hoping to get prescribed hormones and all of that. They gladly took the appointment and didn't say anything that would make me think that this was not the place to go. Well, it wasn't.

When I finally met the doctor, he asked me why I was there. I thought that a question like this would have been addressed by what I said when I made the appointment. Obviously I was mistaken.

What followed was me nervously stammering my way through an explanation of what I wanted to do. I was having these feelings; I wanted to try hormones to either confirm these feelings as being one thing... or another. When the doctor wasn't sure what I was asking for, even after a long explanation, I explained it again, and quite possibly even a third time.

Finally, the doctor understood. Here's what he said (again, paraphrasing a bit here):

"I think that this is a crime against nature, and it's not how you were meant to be. I don't know why anyone would do this to himself. What are you hoping to get out of this? You were born a male and you'll always be a male. How could you want to do this to yourself? This is very, very wrong."

And so on... and so on. This went on for an excruciating five minutes. Finally, I just said, "Okay, I get it," and started to get myself together to go. Then this braying jackass had the stupendous amount of gall to ask me:

"Would you like us to keep your information on file in case you decide to come back here for treatment?"

Ummm... what??

My response was:
"Look, you obviously have a problem with this, so why would I ever want to be treated for something by someone who has a problem with it?"

"Well," he answered, "we have prescribed hormones for people before."

"But you have a problem with it, so why would I want YOU to prescribe them for me? So I can come back here and have you tell me about your problems with what I'm doing? No thanks."

"We could still keep your information on file..."

"That won't be necessary."

"Are you sure?"

"Ummm... yeah, I'm pretty certain."

WTF!?

I walked out of there and I was FURIOUS. People have problems with this kind of stuff, and whatever, I sort of understand that. However, how could you, as a "professional", start laying into someone like this... and then have the sheer audacity to ask me if I want to come back for treatment? Seriously, what IS that??

I was actually shaking when I walked out of the office. I didn't even know what to do. I was mad that he acted that way towards me. I was also pretty mortified by the fact that I went there in a pretty iffy emotional state, baring something that was VERY difficult for me to talk about even under the best of circumstances, and then I was met with a lecture about how I was a "crime against nature."

This experience, needless to say, was nothing but BAD.



As a postscript:
On the way home I was so upset that I stopped off at a pay phone to call a friend (remember pay phones?). While talking to her, I actually just started to laugh about the whole situation. Then I just started to feel kind of bad for the doctor. He was so blinded by his own fear and ignorance that he never took time to even look at the situation from a different perspective, or to talk to me about it, or to talk to anyone about it. He just decided to think what he thought about it and be magnificently blind as to what was really going on.

But as nervous and scared as I was, I got through it. Even with his wondrously supportive words scraping every soft nerve in my brain, I got through it... AND I wound up laughing it off soon after it went down. It made me stronger. It made me less afraid. It made me want to do it more... though I wouldn't be prescribed hormones til some five years later.

One final note:
When I next went back to my primary doctor and related the story, she was aghast at the endocrinologist's behavior. "Even if he does have a personal problem with it, it was HIGHLY unprofessional for him to talk to you like that."

Yeah, I'll tend to agree with that assessment.
As I've said, my primary kinda rocks.

That's all I got tonight.
I hope all is well.

The Good, the Bad... and the Lovely

One of the trickier things about being trans is that sooner or later you have to actually discuss this personal decision with someone administering to your health care, i.e. a person who may very well be a complete stranger. This may be because it's pertinent to what you're being treated for, or it's just something you need to say due to the obvious physical differences that hormones bring to your world. What follows are three brief stories, which will be written over the course of three different posts, about different reactions to this news by the people who attend to physical health. We'll start with...

The Good

About seven years ago or so, I was deeply embroiled in the whole coming-to-terms phase with all the feelings I was having and what they actually meant. I was seeing a therapist, who, while not knowing much about the topic, was very helpful in getting me to admit to myself that what I was feeling (that I wanted to be a woman) was real, and that it would greatly behoove me to explore my options when it came to this.

I did a lot of reading on the topic of trying to figure out what these feelings actually meant, as this was the point where I was desperately trying to convince myself that I WASN'T trans. A course of action was discussed that seemed to be somewhat doable, as well as something that may indeed help me to better know what it was that I wanted. This was: To go on hormones for about three months or so, just to see how it made me feel. If I felt better and liked what was happening to my body (and to my mental state as well), it would be an indication that this may indeed be the path that I should follow. If I didn't like it, it would be an indication that something else was amiss, and I should start trying to figure out what that issue was. Additionally, all the changes that the hormones would cause in me after a mere three months would be completely reversible if I stopped taking them. So I wouldn't be permanently changed if I decided this wasn't for me. All in all it seemed like a great idea, and I was excited to try it. The issue was - where do I get prescribed hormones?

My therapist thought a great place to start would be with talking to my primary care physician (seems kind of obvious when I thought about it after she suggested it, but at the time, it sort of didn't dawn on me). The only problem I had was actually going in to tell my doctor that I was having these feelings and that I wanted to try hormones, because, at the time, I could barely even admit that to myself, let alone admitting it out loud to someone else. I mean, it took all of my courage to even just admit it to a therapist.

My therapist, however, saw my hesitance and apprehension, so she offered to call my primary and tell her what I was dealing with. She did. Which was super-awesome of her. A few weeks later I found myself in my primary's office, discussing all of this with her. Here's how she started our conversation (though I'm paraphrasing a bit here):

"I spoke with your therapist and she explained everything to me. This is obviously a very difficult personal decision your dealing with, and I'm not here to tell you whether you're right or wrong in what you're doing. That's not my job. My job is to ensure that no matter what you decide to do, you do it smartly, and you remain healthy.

"That being said, I have no experience with this, so I'm hesitant to prescribe you anything, because I wouldn't know what to prescribe. I suggest you talk to a doctor who would better know what to do and how to address this best."

It was then decided that I should go see an endocrinologist, as I read that this was where one should go if they wanted to get hormones and be safe about it. She had the referral written up immediately for an endocrinologist in the area, with more than enough visits to take care of any problems that may arise.

Since then, she has been nothing but understanding, very professional, and extremely helpful. I couldn't have dreamt of anything better. This experience... was nothing but good.

To be continued...

Be well.

Stupidity Is Stupid

On a recent reunion-centered trip back to my old college, I came across a friend of a friend who I knew vaguely 15 years ago. This guy and I seemed to hit it off pretty well during our reintroduction, and, having some things in common, we got to talking a decent amount over the course of the weekend. The conversation at one point drifted into him talking about his marriage, and that was followed by a very friendly and casual, "So, are you married... or do you like guys...?"

A question of this sort makes sense when posed to me, as I guess I give off a "vibe" or I "have an air about me" that says that I'm not your standard heterosexual guy. Since I'm not that, and since gay people are far more numerous and visible than trans people, it's a fairly natural assumption to make about someone who you suspect of being not-heterosexual. In short, no one has ever met me and jumped to the assumption that I'm trans.

More recently, while at a reunion of people who used to work at my current company, I was told by a friend that a former coworker of ours (who I really didn't even talk to that night) asked if I was gay. Putting off a vibe indeed.

All of this really shouldn't surprise me, yet it still kind of does. I think this is because I have no idea of what I'm projecting to the world at large. In essence, I am really just out there trying to be more as I see myself to be, and, based on the frequency of these questions, it seems like I'm succeeding in this effort.

This is big for me because...
When I first started to get a handle on what I was feeling and told a few close friends about it, I was TERRIFIED of anyone else even suspecting that I was anything out of the norm. I went through a great deal of worrying about what people knew about me, what they didn't know, etc. etc. I was afraid of even being seen as gay, which may seem slightly ludicrous in 2009 with gay acceptance in our society growing at exponential levels (YAY!), but at the time, it scared me senseless.

I never wanted to be anything other than what everyone else was... at least when it came to this. I never had anything against gay people or trans people, but I didn't want to be labeled as one. Part of this is because I generally hate to be defined by a label, as labels provide the launch pad for people to make erroneous assumptions about other people. The other part had to do with, I would think, the fact that I was fighting all the feelings I was having, and the more people who I admitted this to, and the more people who knew about it, would only serve to make all these feelings more real.

Additionally, even just 10 years ago, while it was still okay in certain circles to deviate from the heterosexual paradigm, it certainly isn't accepted like it is today. This in and of itself would (and I'm sure still does) keep people closeted.

In the years since I first fearfully started telling people close to me how I was feeling, a lot of the concerns I had about what people were thinking about me and my sexuality have greatly dissipated. In social settings I'm growing increasingly unconcerned and blasé about it all. Where I once used to be terrified by the thought of people knowing anything about this, I am now completely unconcerned as to who knows what's going on with me in any instance of my social world.

There is only one exception to this statement at this point and time: At Work.

Now everyone is a different shade of themselves while at work; it's just sort of the nature of the beast. However, I was told by a friend and fellow coworker recently that the difference between Work Me and Social Me is "much more so than the av-er-age bear." (And yes, I loved the reference.)

In work I have played things pretty close to the cuff. Not so much that I would go and salivate over pictures of well-endowed women with the guys in the workplace just to "fit in", but that I really didn't give an indication one way or the other. My actions were much more a pretty accurate representation of the I'm Totally a Guy... Just a Different Kind of Guy mask that I wore for years (and wore quite well, I might add, as I'm apparently a pretty good actor).

And I should say here that I don't even really care if the people I work with know this about me or not. Interestingly enough, when people know about this it actually makes my interactions with them better and less awkward. They have some general sense of who I am, I can relate to people better, and I get related to better. Where my concern comes into play is: I live and work in a place where I can actually be fired solely for being trans with NO legal recourse, and this sad fact isn't at all uncommon in our country today.

Though I should pause here to say that people in many states and situations can still get fired for being gay, and they too would have no legal recourse for being dismissed in such a fashion. The company that employs me, however, has sexual orientation written into their non-discrimination policy. Gender identity, which would cover someone like myself, is not yet given the same protection. It's for this reason that I'm really in no rush to out myself to everyone I work with.

The troubling thing about this is that even with my more open social attitude, I was still concerned about people at work thinking that I'm gay. Like I didn't want them to even have an inkling that there was anything about me that was out of the ordinary, even with this non-discrimination policy in place.

This was stupid of me. This was fear and whatever other horrible emotions rearing a collective head to keep me from any overt behaviors that would make anything about me seem questionable. As I said, this was stupid of me. Especially if what I am actually rankles people more than being gay does.

I recently realized this stupidity, and have taken measures to get over it. I made a conscious decision recently to be more myself in work; whatever that means, and whatever that will mean. So, people around my office may start seeing me as gay. At one time I would have been scared shitless about this happening; now I see it as a good thing. It means that I AM being more who I am, and if people are going to think what they're going to think about me anyway, why shouldn't I at least be someone who's being as true to themselves as they can possibly be?

So, like I said, one day soon I may be thought of as this gay guy in my workplace (if I'm not actually already). Again, this is a big and important step for me... and a good thing in every possible way that this can be a good thing.

Be well.

An Onslaught of Caring

This past weekend involved me getting together with a friend who I see about once every six months (if that). We met some other friends at a bar for a few drinks, had a great time, and eventually left said bar some long hours later.

He and I were the only people left at the end of the night, and we stood in the parking lot for a good while after everyone we knew had left. Well, we didn’t just stand there. We stood there and talked. Mostly about me and what I’m going through. You know all that gender stuff I’m dealing with? Yeah, that.

His thoughts on the topic that he conveyed to me that night are as follows:

“You’re never going to look good.”
“You’re too big.”
“You’re going to be a freak.”
“I would feel weird bringing my friends around you because I don’t know how they would react.”
“You’re going to LOOK like a freak.”
“People will treat you like a freak.”
“You WILL look like a guy in a dress.”
“You’re WAY too big to look like anything BUT a guy in a dress.”
“Why would you do this??”
“DON’T DO THIS!!”

And so on, and so on.

These phrases were all fired at me during the course of our conversation, and I, having already played this sort of game with an uncle of mine back in December, deftly answered questions with dizzying clarity and alacrity, which even had my friend questioning his thoughts on all that he said (or so I would like to think… if even just a little) by the time that we left each other that night.

I had an answer to everything because these are the thoughts that bombard me fairly regularly, and I have to tell myself something to get the thoughts out of my head. I have to have some sort of answer to these comments, lest I stay festooned in a dazzling sort of hopelessness and apathy.

Additionally, every single one of the comments that my friend made was answered with nothing but a smile and a calm explanation about things – even when essentially being called a freak, or when being verbally assaulted with your worst fears from a voice outside of your own head (scary!).

Calmness prevailed, however, because I know that he cares. I know that he’s saying all of this stuff to me, believe it or not, because he cares about me and doesn’t want to see me suffer. He believes that me going through this will yield nothing but suffering, so he’s trying to “hit me with some reality”; when IN reality, these thoughts and comments may as well be surgically affixed to me. I take them with me wherever I go… even when I try my damnedest to leave them behind.

This was the same kind of caring that ensued with the aforementioned uncle in December:

“Can I just say something about all of this?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“DON’T DO THIS! You’ll be a freak! Please don’t do this!”

Ahh… the power of caring and candid honesty. It just slices right through you like 200 razors blades all at once. Thankfully this past encounter with my friend only took the wind out of my sails for a few days (I’m still feeling the effects, but I can tell that the pain is lifting a bit). In the past, something like this would set me back and stay with me for weeks… if not months. I can shrug this off a tad easier than I could in the past, and it doesn’t hurt as much, because over the exact points in your psyche that these honesty-fueled razor blades burrow into, I have a lot of scar tissue to cushion the blow.

However… it still hurts. Just not as much as it once did. I suppose that’s something to be thankful for. That, and for people who care. I can’t NOT respect honesty, and I certainly don’t want people to lie to me about what they think. I just wish that hearing one’s honest opinion of me and my life wasn’t like getting repeatedly kicked in the face sometimes.

My best to you.

So...

Just what the fuck am I going to do with myself in regards to the whole gender thing? I can’t see any way that I will ever start living my life as a woman. I mean, I guess I could really start scraping things together and just do it; but will that make me happier, or more miserable? I think that I want to do it when I have the chance to actually go and have the surgery soon after doing it, otherwise I’ll just be prolonging the agony of living in the world as a woman with a penis (and oh, how that's not too inconvenient or anything... if even just in terms of getting dressed and hiding things).

Though it's not like I’m not "hiding things" now, but in the scenario I just mentioned, all the world will see me and be much more aware of everything; and at the moment I'm sort of duping people into thinking I'm a guy... and pretty much making things easier on myself at the same time. (By the by, this only works because everyone who's close to me, knows I'm trans. If they didn't, the above described scenario would be quite hellish.)

I don’t know. I just know that I have to make a decision. If I’m not going to go through with all of this, will it be enough? I wish I could just have the bottom surgery, keep living like this, and if I ever want to transition socially, I could just do it.

It’s tough because I really don’t want to live without the anonymity factor going on. I want to be able to just walk into any place that people go, and not feel like all eyes are on me because I’m "the freak". I want to be able to interact with people and have them judge me on my interactions, NOT on the fact that I happen to be a 6’4” woman.

Well, if I’m lucky they’ll see me that way. If not, they’ll just see me and judge me as a transperson. And... well... whatever.

I have no doubt that these answers will come to me, but for now, I have no idea what they are. This is especially so because money is SUCH a factor with all of this.

I wasn't sure where I was going with this, but at least I posted. It's been a while. I hope all is well with you, whomever you happen to be. :)

Shaking My Fist At God

I realized recently, through a weird course of events, that I have anger issues. Now, I don’t really mean that in a way that's as bad as those words may seem; and the fact of the matter is, I’m usually a very placid person. Yes, placid. I can be excitable, but I’m pretty peaceful when it comes right down to it. Or so my exterior may make it seem.

Anyhoo, I am someone who seems to suppress a lot of anger. And before that's taken the wrong way, I should say that I don’t really experience a lot of anger these days. It’s not very often that I get angry, as it’s just sort of not in my nature. I’m also a pretty understanding person, so I don't usually get overly upset with people, because I can often see their point, even if I don’t happen to agree with them.

I'm just really not a person who gets angry easily... until this week. I have been just GNASHING mad this week – seemingly at everyone and everything. It's bad. I hate it. I don't like it even a little bit. I loathe feeling this way. What makes it worse, is that I find I've been overly angry about things that I, more times than not, would find to be a minor annoyance.

It then occurred to me this evening, I’m not angry about these above-described situations that seem to be making me angry; because those things just aren’t worth getting upset about (they’re really not when I sit down to think about them).

It turns out that I’m angry, because… well… because I’m angry.

Essentially I have a lot of anger towards the universe, or god, or the It, or whatever moniker you use to describe the force (if there is one, and I believe that there is something) that governs the universe. Not governs. Guides? Something? I don’t know, and this is getting way more theological than I mean it to.

Reeling myself back in…
Whatever this is... I’ll call it “the universe”... I’m mad at it. I’m mad at “the universe”. And I very much mean that on a metaphysical level, and in no way on a physical level, if THAT makes any sense at all.

And I’m upset with the universe (even though it’s done wonderfully cool things for me) because I’m going through this utter gender-swap nonsense.

Now, now, I don’t mean “nonsense” in the sense that going through this process (or the people who do so) is in any way nonsensical. I’m going through it myself, so I get how these feelings are not stupid in ANY way. I get that. Believe me, I do.

What I am saying, however, is that it shouldn’t even fucking MATTER if I’m a man or a woman. I mean, cosmically, or whatever. And I know that I am totally sounding like a neo-turbo-hippie, but c’mon. Why does it even matter if I’m a man or a woman? I’m still a person; and I am very much of the belief that men and women are completely equal and, as such, both should be treated with the most absolute of respect. So what does it matter what kind of packaging I have? That exterior shouldn't say anything about who the person inside is. I believe in this kind of shit... like really believe in it. So, again, why does this even matter to me?!

Additionally, and to switch gears slightly, I think that in a WAY lot of ways women have it worse off than guys. Sure, there are some sucky things about being a guy, but there’s a bunch of shitty things about being a girl. Giving up your sense of safety in unfamiliar environments (and sometimes familiar ones) is just a start, and it beats ALL of the bad things about being a guy hands DOWN (or, at least, that's how I tend to feel about it).

So, considering all that I said above, and taking into account that these are actually my legitimate feelings on the aforementioned topics, why then would I even WANT to be a girl?

Well, I kind of answered that in an earlier post – either I just AM a girl and this is me just trying to return to a kind of an emotional stasis with things… or… I’m crazy.

Let’s work on the premise that I’m not crazy. It may be a stretch, but humor me. : )

If I’m not crazy:
I still see being a girl as being tougher than being a guy, AND I feel that the sexes shouldn’t be treated with any lesser degree of respect. If someone else is a man or a woman, in a lot of ways it doesn’t matter to me on any level (especially so because I don't date, and if I did, I'm not sure it would matter what sex I was dating, just so long as I liked the person... but this is WAY off topic).

Men and women, in my eyes, are simply two different sets of people and neither is better than the other. Both are good. Both are great, in fact. So, all of this being said, why should it matter if I'm a man or woman? Is the masculine or the feminine (or some combination of them both) really infused into us in such a manner? Does it really govern us that much?

Well, I guess so. How could I, of all people, say that it doesn’t?

I’m not sure I like that about the universe, then. Though I could rationalize a bit and say that it is this way because it’s instinctual – it is necessary, or humans wouldn’t have propagated. All of this is SO instinctually ingrained in a person, because there's millennia of survival that wouldn't have happened if these things weren't this way (though I don't know that any of that would necessarily be true, I could still totally argue the point).

But when it comes to me and people like me, propagation has nothing to do with it, because it’s not like I can go through this to give birth. So, AGAIN, why does it matter if I am male or female? It’s highly unlikely that I will actually reproduce in any way, so, “universally” speaking, why make people go through this? Why make them endure this amount of nonsense? It’s stupid. It makes no sense on ANY level... and I am still going through it. I'm still going through all the ups and downs that come along with it. I'm still dealing with copious amounts of shit because of it. And I can't find any kind of logical reason why I should be doing this... I just know that I can't NOT do this.

And that is why I get pissed at the universe from time to time.

That’s not a good way to be. I have to find a way to correct this.
More to come on this topic.

All the best.

Itchy & Scratchy

Sometimes there are really interesting (though odd) things that go along with transitioning, and one of these occurred to me recently. I’ve been getting electrolysis treatments for the past 4 years or so, and FINALLY there seems to be some sign of decent progress. At this point in time I have very little visible hair left on my cheeks and on either side of my face. My chin is also starting to thin out, though there is more hair there than on my cheeks.

The hair that is remaining on my chin, however, has gotten softer and softer from the treatments. This hair also seems to be the hair on my face (when there actually is hair on my face... as I SO strive to be turbo-clean shaven at all times) that I notice the most. It’s the hair that I have the most contact with, because I tend to touch my chin more than any other part of my face (and I suspect most people would as well, but I have no idea if that is so, and I certainly don’t have the means nor the patience to conduct a comprehensive study on the topic).

Anyway, this thinner hair also comes in contact with my mouth. There’s that bit of hair – the “soul patch”, if you will – that sits right under the bottom lip, which, when the mouth is closed in certain ways, will rub against the inner part of the top lip. For those of you who have never experienced this, it creates an odd sensation, and it's actually very pleasant on a tactile level, as in it “feels cool”.

Over time, this sensation changes. It's smooth when you are younger, then you get a bit older and you start to feel that “peach fuzz” forming there. That’s a whole new sensation. Then every few years I guess, from the constant shaving, it getting rougher and rougher, which produces a whole new set of sensations until it finally levels off a bit a some point, then it’s just sort of "the way it is" for you, and it's not really noticed too much after that.

Recently, however, all of this has been disappearing for me. This feeling of constancy resting just below my bottom lip is going away.

Now this is a good thing for me. I DO want it to go away. This is not to say that I won’t miss the sensation sometimes. Additionally, there is no better a place to scratch an itch on the palm of your hand, or even an itch on the back of your hand, than on the round part of your chin. I am CERTAIN that I’ll miss this little trick... like when I actually have that itch and don’t know what to do to make it go away, because THAT is one. dogged. itch.

The weird thing about all of this, is that with these things going away and the hair on my chin getting softer and softer, it’s almost reminding me of being younger – of being in high school and things like that. The sensation of soft hair on my chin makes me thing of early adolescence. I wonder if no hair will make me think of childhood, if it’ll help me recall more of it.

Then, years from now (and almost ironically), the clean chin will become the feeling more identifiable with the post-40 age than with the childhood age, and the days where I had the interesting stubble on my face will fade into my past and become “when I was young”.

Hope you’re having a good day.

You May Be Right... I MAY Be Crazy

Essentially, I am magnificently sick of things being the way they are now. I keep pushing and pushing for things to get better, and they're not. They're simply not getting better. If you want to know why, it's because every single time I look in the mirror I can only think one thing, and that thing is: You're fucked. You are totally and completely fucked.

That's it. That's what I think when I get up and look in the mirror every morning, or when I'm in work, or even when I'm driving to work and I get a glimpse of myself in the rear-view mirror. When I see myself in the mirror over the sink while washing my hands in the bathroom, I think You're fucked. When I see my reflection in a car window, I think You're fucked. When I see my SHADOW, I of course go on to think this happiest of all the happy thoughts. You know, the one about me being utterly and fantastically fucked. Yes, that one.

Not surprisingly, I used to LOATHE looking at myself in the mirror, just because I thoroughly detested what I saw in there. It may sound funny, but I like looking in the mirror better now than I did before. When I look in the mirror now, I see the effect that the hormones have had on me, and that does make it easier to look upon any visage of myself. Still, I've been taking these hormones now for coming up on 4 years, and still, all I can think when I look at myself these days is... well, you get the picture. This is discouraging (to put it lightly), especially when you consider that there's not a whole lot that's going to make this situation any better.

Being the size that I am (6'4"), I'm just far too gargantuan for the hormones to even the playing field in any way. To complicate matters... I used to be rather heavy. I lost something like 70 pounds over the years, and I'm looking to lose some more weight (read: I'm still a bit overweight, making me even bigger than "gargantuan"). New weight loss, however, will at least make me look somewhat smaller. There's also the option of facial feminization surgery (or FFS), which would help me to look more as I feel, though where I'd get the 10,000 to 30,000 dollars for the appropriate surgeries is anybody's guess. Even if I did get the money, and had these surgeries, and lost weight, and whatever else, I still feel like it's never going to be enough. Yet I still go at this gender stuff full-bore, as I feel like I'm doing my best and giving my all in an attempt to simply be myself; even taking it to the point where it's meant chemically altering my body and spending ridiculous amounts of money while uprooting my life and the people in it. Fun.

These feelings I have, however, are a need... a craving... a longing... an obsession. They encompass everything I do at all times. It's all I ever wanted, and all I really want. It's the only thing that means anything to me on a personal level, and it's the one thing that I can never have. How do you live when that's what your life is about? The only thing that matters to you is the thing that you can never have. So, you spend the entirety of your life chasing this idea of it, what it is, what it means to you, hoping that it will ease some of the frustration, and self-hatred, and jealousy. You hope that it will help you to think straight, and to concentrate, and to just live your life without having these blinders of obsession on.

But the point to all of the above is that I'm never, ever, EVER going to get what I want out of life (i.e. to be unquestionably female), which really bites some sweaty ass, because nothing else in my life even matters to me in regards to what I want out of my life. NOTHING. It's not even CLOSE. I honestly don't even know what else I care about other than this. Now obviously I care about the people I love, but other than that, life sort of holds nothing for me. I have no hopes or dreams for myself other than to go through with all of this. Travel, sex, family, whatever... they have no meaning to me, and things of that nature offer me no solace. Especially when you consider that odds are very slim that I'll ever get married, or have kids, or anything like that. (Not only am I trans, which is a pretty big strike in the whole dating arena, but I have pretty high standards for stuff like this, so the list of potential partners for me is about all of 2 people on the planet; and chances are pretty minuscule that I'll ever even bump into them, since, you know, in the entire world there's just these 2 people... but I digress).

So, that's it. There's nothing else in life for me, because nothing on that personal level really matters to me... other than this. THIS is what's left. THIS. That's it. Just me and my fucking gender crisis. It's enough to make me scream for the entire year, starting right.................... now!

Okay, so I'm not screaming, and at times I think that maybe I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Maybe this is just how it all goes. Maybe I just forget about all logic and everything I know, and I say, "I'm a girl, I've always been a girl, I was just born differently," convincing myself to the point where I don't even question the notion, which may induce some blissful ignorance into my life. Maybe I just start acting in any way that's going to make me faux-happy, because, as we've already established, I'm never really going to be happy. It's tough to be happy when your whole life is built around the crushing premise of being something that you can never be and living a life that you can never live.

You can call it whatever you want, but I've long felt that I will never actually be a true, "real", female. I'll be some wannabe fabrication of one. I'll always have a secret. I'll always feel flawed and out of place, and these feelings crush me on a daily basis.

HOWEVER... as with most things, there's another way to look at all of this:

I feel pretty insane by "normal" standards. This is because, while going through the process of changing my sex, I keep telling myself, This is insane... there's no way to win here... this is a lose-lose situation; and I think these things all the time. Yet I continue to do this. I continue to move in this direction. Pretty crazy, right?

Then you throw in the fact that when you start down this path, all of this stuff that you thought about for decades starts to come to pass. Things get more real. It actually almost gets to be TOO real, because there is a sharp contrast between reality and what you've been dreaming about for years and years. The reality of this situation, as I understand it to be currently in my life, is that this whole process simply isn't going well at all. The further I go along with this, the more feminine I look; and I look a lot more feminine than when I started. Yet, even after all of this, I look like nothing but a guy. But do I stop? Nope.

Again... This is insane and there's no way to win here.
Yet, still I go on.
Crazy.

So, why am I doing this then? Why would anyone do this to themselves, especially when they think nothing but the above thoughts about the entire situation?

There's only one reason I can think of as to why I'm doing this. That reason is: because I am female. That's just what I am, even if no one can see it or no one ever sees it. Even if people do their best to ignore it and to see only what the cover of the book tells them. Maybe I'm going through all of this pain, annoyance, loneliness, frustration, and everything else, because I actually AM female and I'm simply trying to bring that out into the visible world so I can better live my life as one (hopefully), and live as someone who I truly am.

This is the only answer to the question of why I'm doing this that I have at the moment, and it's a stark difference from the philosophy that I laid down before saying that I was more or less neither sex, and that I was something else entirely. If I am not female, however, then why would I be trying as hard as I am to live my life this way, even when I know that it's a no-win situation to go down this path, and no one is ever going to see me how I see myself (even if I go all the way through the process)? It's cost me so much... friends, family, opportunity, money, stress, worry, and major portions of my life lost to depression and the overwhelming, quicksand-like malaise that goes along with it. This has cost me SO much, AND I think that going down this path is nothing but a futile effort for reasons I delved into above. So, why the hell ELSE would I be doing all of this if I wasn't simply someone who IS female? Who else but someone who was female would deal with all of this pain and shit to look more like a woman and live their life as a woman, even if it'll NEVER be right? Who would do that???

Well, the only other answer I can think of to this question is that I'm crazy. You can call it that, I guess. What I defined above certainly sounds that way. Even if I am crazy, I'm certainly not harmful, and I actually feel like I function a TAD too well in the world to be truly considered crazy, and what even defines "crazy" anyway? Who makes that call?

So, this is the answer I have at the moment. Either I really am female (albeit with a gigantic, male-ish body)... or I'm crazy. I'd really like to think that I'm NOT crazy, so what does that leave me with?

All the best.

Branding and Marketing

Most people hear the word “transsexual” and images flash through their minds. Unfortunately, many of these images are of the Not Good variety, and I also think that an egregious amount of Jerry Springer may be smattered all over said images. As I said… Not Good.

Now I have nothing against Jerry Springer and his ilk per se, but I can’t help, being who I am, to be slightly put off by such shows. I have an old memory from in and around high school days of watching some afternoon talk show, like Richard Bey or someone WAY over the top like that, who happened to have some transwoman on the show that day. Though I didn't often watch programs like these, I made it a point to watch that particular show because it dealt with a topic near and dear to me (though at the time, I didn’t quite know how near and dear it really was).

As shocking as this may be, the show wasn't exactly what I was looking for. Let’s just say that there was not an enlightened discussion of transsexualism featuring a panel of well-educated people discussing the validity of these feelings, the lifestyle, and the problems and concerns transsexuals had in coping with their issues and living in the world. Though I honestly can't say that I was looking for that out of Richard Bey's show, but anyway...

What WAS on the show was this transwoman telling her current lover that she “used to be a man”… on national TV (I believe it was national anyway, or syndicated nationally, or whatev). The information that she shared, as one might expect, did not go over so well. After the lover’s shock wore off, they didn’t sit down and discuss this news, what it meant to their relationship, or even just what it meant at all. What did happen, was that they strapped this transwoman to a giant wheel – picture something like the “Wheel of Fortune” wheel – and then, of course, they spun her. Seriously. They spun her on a wheel. Oh, but wait… it gets better. While spinning, she then started to get pelted with what I remember to be oatmeal (though it may have been pudding now that I think about it). Yes, a trenchant and insightful discussion of the topic at hand indeed!

Unfortunately for me and other transsexuals, when some people hear the word “transsexual” they get a wonderful image like the one I just described above. Someone gets ambushed on a talk show, only to find out that the woman they’ve been sleeping with has had a sex change. We then become seen as clandestine shysters, who are out only to prey on unsuspecting men (and women, as the case may be). This, as I know firsthand, is a wildly accurate portrayal of a transsexual. I mean, if you could see us all right now, that’s all we are thinking about as we devilishly tap the tips of our fingers together and plot… you know, because we do an awful amount of plotting to do stuff like this. And just so you're forewarned, we also eat babies and choke newborn kittens. UGH! Please.

This notion of fiendish sex-plotting is wrong on so many levels, and to fully address it I would need at least another post or two. However, I will just pause to say that many people going through transitioning (people like myself for instance) have actually become asexual, as in we don’t look to have sex in any way. For me, personally speaking, I can say that I don’t really seek anything romantic with anyone, because if I did seek out any sort of romantic encounter, it would eventually come around to having sex of some sort, and to be honest, I really don’t like what’s going on with the lower half of my body right now. So, the thought of someone touching me in such a manner is actually sort of very ew to me for the time being.

Suffice it to say, going through this is not about sex (or who one is attracted to) in any way. This is by no means sexually gratifying, and in actuality, it’s essentially the complete opposite of that, as sex is something that hasn’t been on my radar in quite some time, and my sex drive has drastically waned from the blocking of testosterone and introduction of estrogen into my system. Yes, testosterone does indeed propel the sex drive. I can attest to that, as mine is about nil.

So, hopefully all of this allays some of the fear that’s out there surrounding people like myself. We’re not out to trick or dupe anyone into anything. There may be those among us who may look to dupe or trick, just as there is with people in general; but as a whole, we’re just like any other group of people… we just happen to get a lot of bad press. The bad press comes from the fact that we’re different, not a lot of people know a transsexual, and people who are not transsexuals have a tough time understanding what a transsexual is going through, because it is such a foreign notion to the wider population. Additionally, we are a very small minority, and as such, we don’t often have the big guns to help protect us and our image in the world.

To add to the joy and the fun, if people don’t think of the "talk show tranny", they move on to the wonderful (and pornography-crafted) moniker of “she-male”, or the ever so lovely “chick with a dick”. This whole view, again, is centered all around sex, but this time it’s an actual industry – though one that more often than not is thought of as “sick” and “perverse”. Transsexual porn is something that not a lot of people freely admit to being into, though there are enough people out there who like it that there's a market for it. Oh, and transsexual prostitutes… yeah, they will find work. People do frequent them, otherwise they wouldn’t be around. You don't often hear people speak of that either.

Personally (and this may be a bit biased), while I don’t particularly like the over-sexed idea of the transsexual (as pretty much ALL of the transsexuals I have ever met are not this way at ALL), I don’t see what the problem is when it comes to what gets someone off. If someone finds the idea of someone who looks like a girl yet still has a penis attractive, should anyone even care? People do, however, because it falls into this afraid-to-be-gay area that many people still seem to vehemently rail against. Even the whole “you’ve been sleeping with someone who used to be a guy” motif falls into this "I am SO not gay, and I'll punch you if you say I am" type thing. People become SO upset by it, that they flip out, lash the person to a big, spinning wheel, and then proceed to pelt them with mushy oatmeal… or they sleep with the person, find out what they have gone through, and they actually kill the person because they are THAT upset about the idea... but, you know, six of one, a half dozen of the other.

For all of these reasons and perceptions, I would like to declare a moratorium on the word “transsexual”. It just has way too many negative connotations associated with it. Additionally, being someone who has worked in marketing for a significant portion of my adult life, I would like to “re-brand” the entire idea. I would like to present it for what it is – people just like everyone else, who are trying their best to deal with feelings and a situation they did nothing to create, which happens to be causing them an over-abundance of pain and strife, much of which is caused by societal intolerance, misconception, and misrepresentation.

If you look at the definition that I just laid down, you can gather a lot from it. For instance, most transpeople are resilient folks. They keep taking the punches that life hurls at them, and many of them keep getting up and moving on, no matter how many times they've been knocked down. I find that to be pretty damn admirable in and of itself… but wait, there’s more!

Transpeople can be supremely accommodating and flexible… naturally. We generally have a good sense of humor, because if you can’t laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation (and yourself) you won’t last long with all of these feelings rampaging throughout your gray matter.

What’s more, transpeople have a way of observing life and the world through a set of eyes that has kind of lived on both sides of the male/female divide. We offer a very unique perspective on things, because we have seen the world in a very unique way. By way of survival, we have to been keen observers and harness a magnificent amount of understanding. Additionally, we are the bridge between male and female. We understand what women are dealing with more than any man ever will; and conversely, we understand what men are dealing with more than any woman ever will. We exist in this region of human existence that dwells between the points of Male and Female*, and to that end, we have something highly unique to offer the world.

The problem is: with things in their current state, we will never be seen as I’m describing above, and I think that the word “transsexual” is a part of the problem. It carries way too much baggage.

So… I suggest we totally and completely become known simply as trans. Trans is sleek. Trans is catchy. Trans is very now. Okay, now I’m getting a bit too wrapped up in marketing-speak.

For anyone who doesn't know, trans is a prefix that means “across or through”. So, transsexuality is "across sexuality", i.e. something that is not defined by the current description of the “male or female” idea of sexuality. It goes across and/or breaks clean through that barrier. It is the bridge over the gulf.

Now some may find it best to not play a rousing game of Curious George and the Mysterious, Unattended Apiary when it comes to crossing these barriers and exploring these new avenues; but I say why not? Why not explore what’s out there? Why not see that there are many things that go on in this existence that, while strange, are also fascinating in their uniqueness? Personally I’d rather embrace this kind of stuff, and I’d like to be as trans as possible when it comes to most things. I would like to be able to see both sides of any situation. I’d like to be able to understand things from many angles; and I’d like to experience all there is, and not confine myself by listening to erroneous societal demonizations, as I’d like to make the call for myself after exploring the options that life presents to me.

So, essentially, what I’m saying here is: get to know someone who’s trans. Appreciate them for who they are and for the uniqueness that they can offer to you and your world. Welcome their differences, but don’t forget to embrace your similarities. Transpeople ARE just like you, only they happen to be trans. Which, as I said, is sleek, catchy, and very now. :)

I hope all is well in your world.
Peace and all the best to you.


* As a side note, I don't see sexuality in any way as a binary of "male" and "female", as this notion promotes the stereotypical definitions of men and women, and no one embodies all of the stereotypes about their particular gender. Some men cry at movies, and some women LOVE sports - just to name two incredibly obvious ones. In my view, the whole male/female dynamic lies on more of a line with what's seen as stereotypically male at one end, and what's seen as stereotypically female at the other. Some people may stray close to the ends of this line, but most people fall somewhere in the middle, as they are people, and people are not stereotypes. There is nothing wrong or right about falling at any point on this line, you just kind of wind up where you should be, because that's who you are as a person. The important thing here is to embrace everyone along this line, no matter where they happen to be, because, as I said, in the end we're all just people.

I've Heard It's Painless

Let me preface this by saying the following:

I am NOT suicidal.

It’s funny, because I thought I knew what was on my mind when I got on here tonight. I was thinking about how I’m not a suicidal person, and how this being trans craziness makes someone who is not suicidal, and one who loves SO many things about life and living, consider suicide. It passes through my head from time to time, and in a somewhat-earnest fashion. Now I don’t think that I would ever do something like that (you know, barring extreme circumstances like a debilitating and fatal illness, or sacrificing myself to save the Earth from being struck by an asteroid or something else utterly plausible like that). Being trans, however, makes you consider suicide as a truly viable option. Oh how awesome this all is! I always wanted to throw the option of suicide into the mix under the heading What You Should Consider Doing with Your Life.

The numbers of transpeople who kill themselves are staggering. Various sources have it in and around 30%*. So, 3 in 10 transpeople WILL kill themselves. These are the numbers, and this is without bringing in the number of transpeople who have tried to kill themselves. If you think about it in terms of the scope of everyone you know, and think that 3 in 10 will commit suicide, it seems absolutely ludicrous.

The reason for these numbers is that (and this is coming from a person who is non-suicidal by nature) you look at this daunting mountain that’s in front of you that you’re forced to climb, and it’s SO intimidating that you think about shoving the pointy end of a bottle of Drain-o into your mouth. Oh, and if you choose to actually climb this mountain, suicidal bliss will tantalize you along the way with thoughts such as: whatever I do, no matter how much I do and how much I fight to be me, it’s never going to make a difference; or there’s I’m never going to be what I want to be or be seen how I really am; and then there’s I’m causing all this strife in hopes of achieving a goal that can never really be reached, so what’s the fucking point?

Then, after these thoughts hit you, you consider that not only will you never again fit in with society-at-large, but you always have to worry about people finding out and reacting negatively to it. When you meet anyone new, you have to consider when would be the right time to tell them (if they don’t already know by your appearance that is). Your hopes for dating become slimmer, and the idea of having the “typical family life” is reduced to about nil. You have to worry about where you go, who you’re going with, what kind of people will be there, etc., etc. And if you’re not the worrying type, you at LEAST have to be somewhat concerned about it. If you’re not, you either raise absolutely zero eyebrows, or you’re just fantastically oblivious. Unfortunately, I’m neither of these things, as most people aren’t.

I’m not saying that by going through this all of these things are destined to come about, but they are thoughts that generally assail me on a pretty regular basis. So there’s all of these happy thoughts, and that’s without taking into account the one BIG happy thought that constantly bounces through your head – I don’t feel right in this body or in my life… in ANY way. This one is almost a constant. I feel it at pretty much every moment. It’s like a constant twisting pain in your brain. This feeling by itself is the exact opposite of fun. When you throw all the other thoughts in as well, it can get just a smidge overwhelming from time to time.

And so, due to the factors described above, suicide becomes a legitimately considered choice, like, “Do I try to climb this seemingly-insurmountable mountain of problems and issues, OR do I just make it way easier on myself and swallow a bullet? Hmmm. Just what WOULD be better?”

If you think I’m exaggerating about this you can ask the 30% of people who are like me, yet not here. It’s not a coincidence that the numbers are that high. As I said, I’VE considered it, seriously considered it, and I am not in any way a suicidal person. For me to get to this point is essentially blowing my mind to pieces. I’m shocked that I have. It is COMPLETELY not in my nature.

Being this way, however, living life the way I do (i.e. repeatedly being backed into corner after corner by this issue), just erodes any bit of mental energy you have. It’s fantastically hard to focus enough to make a good go at being successful with work, or things of that nature. I’m not saying that it can’t be done, but you’re trying so hard every day just to see some positive (especially tough when you’re living alone and you subsist in this sort of enclave of human absence), that it gets to be near-impossible to do anything but stave off all the wolves that are already at your psychic gates, because if you don’t do that, you’ll just go hurtling down into this morass of self-loathing, self-hatred, and self-destruction. Good times, all.


I’ve been thinking more and more about how I was when I was a kid, and let me tell you, I was a gooooooooood kid. I wanted everything to fall inside the parameters of the rules, and I obeyed them absolutely as well as I could. You get older, and naturally you start realizing that you can get away with stuff, and that there are many, many rules that are just out and out stupid. So, you generally start adhering to the rules in a more relaxed fashion after those realizations are made.

Even still, I believe in, and by large part act on, a certain code of rules for myself, which is pretty much conveyed by the phrase “try your best to not have a negative impact on anyone else's day”. The problem with this code is that you constantly have to get lost in your interactions a little more than you’re normally used to. You have to dwell on them, and almost over-analyze them, and I’m not sure that anybody has that kind of time.

Then there’s me.
I have that kind of time.

Being at the age that I’m at, most of my friends are in the early stages of parenthood, or they are coupled off in a very serious and domestic fashion. So, that being said, I often don’t have people to do things with. I spend an awful amount of time alone, and when alone, I tend to dwell in and on things; and yes, I almost over-analyze them as well. I indeed have that “luxury”, since I have nothing else more valuable and important to occupy the larger chunks of my time, especially if you take work out of the equation.

Now, I do believe there’s a limit to how far you should go in trying not to be a negative force in someone else's day. You shouldn’t become a doormat, though you should be willing to smile and/or turn the other cheek from time to time. One shouldn’t put themselves in any great peril, or distress, or anything like that. More times than not, all you have to do is be somewhat considerate and use common courtesy. When you do these things, you’re rarely going to have a negative impact on any of the people you happen to bump into during your day, all of whom have no palpable connection to you other than you are both people, and you happened to be in the same place at the same time.

The way I see it, you can make your experience with these people pleasant, even if they may not remember it; or you can make it one that may annoy them, or bother them after the fact, and then they could act on those feelings and cause this bad cascade effect throughout their day, which you would then be the impetus behind. You could be the beginning of this wave of The Bad, all because you needed to tailgate someone, or you felt obligated to get all snarky with the kid in the convenience store, or you just had to fuck with that drifter behind the abandoned train car.

And I’m not saying that you should kowtow to other people’s wishes all the time. I’m saying just to take people into account a little more than you normally would. Just try to NOT be a negative impact on their day in any way that’s under your control. You don’t even have to try to be a positive impact, just try not to be a negative one. That’s it. That’s what I believe in. (Though I do try on most occasions to have more of a positive effect than just a neutral one... but I digress.)

If more people acted in the fashion I’m advocating, I’m quite sure that a lower number than 3 in 10 would be found in trans suicide rates (not to mention that there’d be much less anger and bitterness in general in the world). As of now, however, 3 in 10 is the number.


I got on here tonight with all of this stuff in mind, but after I wrote “I am NOT suicidal” at the beginning of this post, I got sidetracked and had to think about if that was indeed the truth. It is… I think. I am pretty sure that I am not suicidal. I actually had to think about it to see if I was, though. That is where I lie on the scale at this point in time.

All the best to you and yours.


* By the by, the national suicide rate in the U.S. as a whole is .01%, according to the National Institute of Mental Health’s Web site. After about ten minutes of looking, I still couldn’t find the rate for transpeople on the NIMH site, nor a hint of these numbers.